A Million Little Things
by Abibliophobia
Summary: Updated under a different name, this was originally a one shot. Now a set of silly little stories about our favourite trio :-). "Friendship is not a big thing, its a million little things" - Author unknown. Gen. I'll give you one guess who's use of colourful language gave this fic a T rating?
1. Chapter 1

**A Million Li****ttle Things**

**1**

**Challenge**

* * *

Jim leaned heavily on his elbow at the table, woozily considering the contents of his glass.

"You're a hypocrite." He said simply to the room's other occupant, who had been quietly reading something on his PADD.

"Hmm?" Bones puzzled distractedly.

"You know, do as I say not as I do?" Jim prompted, "A hypocrite."

Bones was immersed in the PADD with which he'd taken to searching for the last subject of Jim's wondering mind; the name of the first, later confirmed, life supporting exoplanet found by Earth astronomers before the dawn of the space-faring era. Jim had argued it was Tau Ceti e, in response to which McCoy called Kirk a geek, downed the remains of his last glass of whiskey before stating that it was definitely Kepler-22b.

How they'd jumped from Chekov's rumoured fling with Ensign Remi to early astronomy was beyond McCoy at this late stage in the day, although he strongly suspected it had started with Jim goading him about his apparent hatred of space in general and McCoy jumping to his own defence.

He looked up lazily, "Tell me more."

"Well, you're favourite food is Southern Fried Chicken."

"A little stereotypical don't you think Jim?" Bones bit, indignant.

"I've seen you eat it!"

"Jim, _everybody_ likes southern fried chicken; Scotty's sainted great grandmother liked southern fried chicken… but then, she was from Glasgow…" McCoy almost lost his train of thought.

Kirk continued, "While _I_ have to eat _salad_."

Seemingly unhearing Bone's continued, "…It doesn't mean you have to eat it for every meal. I'll have you know I like salad too."

Jim crossed his arms, glaring. "You're still a hypocrite."

"Go on."

As if loosed by the invitation Jim carried on with increased enthusiasm; "You're favourite drinks are Saurian Brandy and a mint Julep strong enough to knock the socks off've a moose..."

He was interrupted, "Well, in moderation maybe…"

Jim stared blearily, pausing for a moment. "Are you _sober_?"

McCoy eyed him with a look just a little too lucid for Jim's liking.

"We've been drink for drink for the last hour Bones!" Jim exclaimed, thrusting his glass forward to exaggerate the point, "I, for one am _not…"_

"Jim do you have a point?"

Indignant, James Kirk continued to rant at his friend, "You kick up a ruckus when we're late for a medical – don't interrupt – and then don't turn up for your own… "

McCoy's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Oh yeah, caught you out with that one."

"Damned DCMO…"

"What was that?" Jim goaded

"I said one God damn time Jim. Gees."

Undeterred, Jim lay his cards on the table, "You don't take your own health seriously."

"I'm a doctor, I'm not meant to take my own health seriously! If I did that how could I advise other people properly? You learn from your mistakes Jim."

"Oh you do? So crashing the Enterprise into a rogue asteroid qualifies me to be the Fleet's top advisor on how to avoid asteroids?"

"Uhhhh. Where are you going with this exactly? …should I be nervous?" McCoy half joked.

"Terrified." Jim teased

"Really? Cause I could seriously rethink this whole…" Jim promptly cut him off.

"I challenge you."

Bone's stared back, incredulous, "Wha?"

"I challenge you." Jim stated matter of factly, " A 50 cycle cross-fit circuit in the gym; 50 of everything, 50 times. See who finishes first."

"Are you serious…?" McCoy gaped back.

"Don't think you can handle it?"

"You'd collapse!"

Jim shrugged off the retort with a scoff, "Says the guy who sets all the PT sessions but doesn't attend them himself!"

McCoy didn't need time to make his decision. He sat back in his chair defiantly, "Well now, since you put it like that... No."

"See! You see! Hypocrite!" Jim practically leapt out of his seat. McCoy remained just as he was.

"We'll do the circuit, 100 times." Bones deadpanned.

Jim stopped, jaw frozen in thought. His gaze set, " .…. Deal."

* * *

The next afternoon three men were alone in the Enterprise's largest gym. One was standing off to the side, an exasperated sort of boredom wrote itself across his features. He rolled his eyes undetected for the 15th time.

"You give up?" McCoy panted, resting his hands on his knees and taking in the sight of his captain before him. McCoy so hoped that the vest that Kirk wore wasn't meant to look attractive, as every inch of it was now drenched with sweat. A lock of hair flopped down over Jim's eyes and he impatiently blew it away from his face. Jim looked, well, they both looked…

Flattened.

" I give up…." He started, then; "No wait! …." He picked up the weight he'd been lifting and hauled it up just one more time before letting it fall to the floor. " Now I give up."

Still panting, McCoy turned to their quiet observer, "How many was that Spock?"

"Captain, you completed 69.95 circuits."

"YES!" Jim hissed victoriously.

"Doctor, you completed 71."

"Wait… _what?_ You counted wrong Spock."

Spock glared.

"No ya didn't." Jim quickly conceded, " Bones what the _hell?_ Where do you keep all the muscle? In your liver? We all know it's the biggest part of you…"

"Oh, the Lord hates a sore looser Jim-boy." Bones shook his head and reached for his towel and water.

Jim was incensed, "Don't you go getting all preachy on me!"

Bones turned casually away, "You're gonna ache in the morning."

"That's what you said at the bar last night." Jim grouched as they headed to the shower.

"Was I wrong?"

Sure, Jim had been hung over this morning but hell, it wasn't like a little detox had ever done him any… he stood still as the thought occurred to him.

"Well I'll be damned…" He muttered. McCoy had already walked away. "HEY!" He shouted after his friend, "I want a rematch! Hey! Don't you walk away from me!"

He sprinted after Bones to the locker room, clearly for Jim this was not over . In the corner of the gymnasium Spock shook his head, a rueful smile almost tugging at his lips as he left for the bridge.

* * *

True friends are the ones who challenge you :-)


	2. Chapter 2

**A Million Little Things**

**2**

**Spock's Functional Hair**

* * *

"Spock styles his hair." Jim announced suddenly, the sound piercing through pensive atmosphere in the room.

After the struggle and subsequent capture, Jim, Spock and McCoy had found themselves incarcerated in a sort of natural cell. Embedded as it was within the mountain scape, they soon found that, although one of their communicators had been discarded within boot reach of where Spock was bound, the device's signal merely bounced around the walls, deflected by the rock itself.

Spock stood shackled to the wall, with the open device by his boot and regarded his friends with a small degree of irritation. They were bruised and dishevelled, bloodied and scraped like school boys after a fight and it would appear that this away mission would take a little longer than they had anticipated.

He stated as much, to which McCoy snorted and offered the floor to tell him something he didn't already know. A thoughtful silence took hold until Jim voiced his response.

"Really?" A sceptical eyebrow rose on McCoy's brow as he tilted his head toward the Captain. He'd never really thought about it, but now Jim mentioned it, Spock's hair was always _perfect. _

"Well if you don't believe me ask him." Jim shrugged and nodded towards the Vulcan, who looked nonplussed.

McCoy turned to Spock with a hint of curious amusement, "Spock, do you style your hair?"

The Vulcan bristled.

"I hardly see why that question is of any relevance to our current situation..."

"Of course it is Mr Spock; why, you know us humans stagnate without the promise of curiosity and discovery. And what better time to learn about one and other than in a cave, in the ground, contemplating one's own demise…" Bones trailed of in mock thoughtfulness, eyeing Spock surreptitiously to see if he'd play.

"I do."

"Why?"

"To keep oneself presentable is …"

"Well, now that would count as vanity would it not? Surely you Vulcans don't indulge in such things?"

Spock stood up straighter, "Vulcans do not indulge."

"Then why not simply shave it off? It serves no function."

Jim smiled at his handy work as the pair's banter reached full swing. Spock glared at McCoy.

"Tell me Doctor, if your arm served no function would you cut it off?"

"What kind of a comparison is that!? If my arms didn't work I'd be out of a job! A surgeon's dexterity is hard to come by; I hardly think the same is true for your bangs!"

Jim stifled a snort of laughter at the thought of Spock's hair working a calculator as a flash of ire dashed across his First's features.

"Indeed, such skill is a commodity the Enterprise has yet to possess." Spock goaded, almost radiating satisfaction when his sparring partner took the bait.

"Say that again the next time you need sickbay, you self-important, overgrown pixie!" McCoy flared, forgetting the reason he had been standing on one leg and taking a step forwards against his bonds. "Goddamnit!" he grouched at the sudden pain from a swollen ankle, "that was your fault; you and your stupid hair."

"Then it would seem it is some use after all." Spock glowed, triumphant.

The pair were distracted momentarily by the sound of Jim, giggling in his corner of the cell. The sound was contagious, and a small smile tugged at the corners of Bones' mouth.

"Yeah, well." McCoy he tried to sulk, "I'd like to see if Mr Prissy's hair can get us out of this one."

Jim's uncontrollable chuckling rose in both pitch and volume, before long Jim and Bones were cackling in unison.

Spock was confused.

"Gentlemen, perhaps you misunderstand the severity of our predicament?"

"No Spock," Jim gasped, wiping a tear from his cheek onto his shoulder, "it's just the thought… of your hair… doing summersaults across the floor and kicking the crap out've our would-be captors…."

Bones whooped with laughter.

All the noise drew the attention of one of the guards.

He ducked through the small opening of the cave and stood at the entrance, regarding the three with confusion. After a short time, his gaze rested on Spock.

The guard possessed startling blue eyes and a huge disarray bright white hair. In fact, all the people here possessed the same distinctive features; there was not a single dark haired or dark eyed individual among them. Apparently fascinated the guard leaned towards the three men. Taking a knife from his pocket he advanced toward Spock.

He raised it as he moved prompting a startled "Hey! What are you…?!" from Jim who stopped abruptly as the guard sheared off a small lock of Spock's smooth black hair, regarded it curiously and put it in his pocket before walking back to the outer door of their prison .

The stunned silence was short lived, "Well that was…" Jim started.

"Weird." Bones finished.

"Indeed," Spock conceded, attempting to view the missing chunk of hair from the corner of his eye. "But useful." He added revealing the key to their restraints which he now held in his hand.

"Well I'll be…" Bones gaped as the Vulcan freed himself and Jim dissolved into gleeful laughter once again.

* * *

A/N: I have no idea where this came from, but it made me chuckle :-)


	3. Chapter 3

**A Million Little Things**

**3**

** They test your limits**

* * *

I found it hard to rationalise the way I felt, having been so emotionally detatched for so long, yet it was if these people had always been a part of my life. An inconvenient, annoying, desperately irritating and wonderful piece of my life that I could hardly remember being without.

I had thought I was somewhat adventurous, I'd always preferred my motorcycle to any car, a horse to any motorcycle. I liked hiking, camping around the fire drinking unwise amounts of whiskey-infused coffee on cold nights in the middle of nowhere. So I wasn't so good with flying - ok, I HATED it with a passion, but –within reason - I'd always try something new at least once, just to see if I could handle it.

I thought I was adventurous, that was until today.

I clung, literally clung to the rock face like a cat to the top of a tall tree. 'Hanging on by your eyelids' is the saying that springs to mind and every muscle ached with fatigue, I'd even used up the strength to shake with fear.

Of course Jim bounced up the mountainside as if he were the squirrel, laughing at this cat's attempt to climb. I could have hissed at him.

"I did advise the two of you that this would be unwise."

"Shut up Spock. Or say something helpful, either way, get out of my goddamn face!"

Mustering all the panic fuelled reserves of strength I had, I clung to the largest handholds I could - by my fingertips if that's any useful idea of how substantial they were – and scrambled, nails and knees grinding against the rock, up to the next reliable shelf. Against the fatigue, my legs started shaking again, and I leaned as much as I could against an outcrop of flat stone now running parallel with my course, to a ledge where I could just make out a concerned face staring at me from about 50 metres above.

"Bones, you ok?"

"Yeah!" I hollered back, wondering just how the _fuck _he'd gotten that far so quickly, "If you call scared out of my wits 'ok'!"

"You want me to get a rope?" Jim suggested tentatively. We didn't have a rope.

"No thanks Darlin'," I bit sarcastically, "I find the persistent threat of death is more than enough to keep me going." As if nature was trying to emphasis my point, some fine gravel loosened from my precarious foot hold making me scramble again to find purchase. A gust of wind blew my hair across my face, "I need a haircut." I mumbled to myself, once again aware of the Vulcan who had come to hover by my side.

"Do me a favour and when you write up your observations of the 'subject', posthumously of course, feel free to elaborate my less cowardly characteristics won't you?"

"My presence here is not born of scientific curiosity."

"Then why do I feel like a bug on a petri dish?" I grouched, inwardly stifling a wave of fondness at the anxious look that barely tinted his stoic features.

"Could you give him a lift?" The voice suggested hopefully from above.

Not a chance, I thought inwardly, Spock's rocket boots were only a prototype and could barely take his weight reliably, let alone that of two grown men. The constant droning of their tiny propulsion systems, not to mention the floating Vulcan they held, were only serving to annoy me.

"Negative Captain, this propulsion system is not designed to support any weight over 70kg above a theoretical height of 500 meters higher than base ground level."

"Are you insane?" I choked, "We're at least twice that high!"

"Then this excursion has served to render that theory unsubstantiated." Spock continued to hover, unfazed.

"You're unbelievable." I muttered, rolling my eyes. As if I needed anything else to worry about right now!

Trying to ignore my constant companion I observed the way ahead of me, choosing the path of least resistance preferably up, rather than down the smooth slope. I negotiated the next few feet more easily that I had expected, until my foot slipped on the smooth rock and my precarious handhold on the ledge wasn't enough to keep me insitu. I slid, grappling franticly with the diagonal slice in the rock that I'd wedged my right forearm into, it narrowed further down and griped my skin tightly; pain did not even register. I heard a worried shout above me, and grasped the edge of the slice, feet sliding uselessly against the rock face.

Something grabbed hold of my foot and placed it firmly on a protruding ledge below; one foot, followed by the next. An arm wrapped around my waist whilst another hung onto a point above me, taking the weight of us both, granting the rest my whole body begged for. Slowly I began to register the sound of those blasted boots, competing with the thrumming of my heartbeat in my ears. I felt warm breath against the back of my neck.

"Spock?"

"Yes Doctor."

"Can Jim see this?"

"I do not believe so"

"Don't tell him."

"Are you two _hugging_?" Came a gleeful shout from above, "Seriously if you needed an excuse you could have picked something a little less extreme!"

"That settles it." I resolved, steeling myself for the remainder of the climb, "I have to get up there... so I can wring his _scrawny little neck!_"

The next few hours were filled with cursing, sweat and bad jokes being thrown back and forth across the steep terrain. 'Who in hell calls this a relaxing shore leave?' I had thought on several occasions.

As I reached my arm over the ledge at the end of the epic ascent, a blond mop beamed before me.

"You did it Bones!"

Grasping my arm he hauled me over the top of the ledge, a knobbly tree and a few tufts of grass swayed in the wind beaten expanse, but the sun light peeked through the clouds, illuminating the greens and browns. I felt relieved beyond belief, but I was still going to strangle him. That was, until…

"Just turn around." He said, as I rested; hand on knee, panting heavily.

I turned, and rose to stand, mouth agape at the sight.

From here you could see… everything; each cloud casting shadows and light across the expanse of landscape so far below, the rolling hills and jagged mountains stretching out into the distance and the silence, interrupted only by the howling wind forging its way through the hollows and outcrops of rock, where the ground quite literally met the sky.

The sound of footfalls approaching caused me turn, long enough to see Spock approaching from across the ridge, rocket boots slung over his shoulder. He settled between the two of us, staring over the edge.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Jim said serenely, "what better way to see this, than with your friends?"

And that was it. I couldn't throttle him any more than I could deny that it _was_ beautiful and I'd never felt more alive. Still, I thought, a little teasing wouldn't hurt.

"Next time, I choose how we spend our shore leave. Before Mr Adventure here gets us all killed! "

"Oh I don't know, you seemed to be enjoying at least some of it." Jim teased, throwing a suggestive glance first at me, then at Pointy, who simply raised one eyebrow and maintained his forwards gaze.

"Jealously," he began, "is rarely a desirable character trait."

Spock may have been able to make a joke with a straight face, but as Jim spluttered and fumbled for a come-back I crumpled, laughing so hard my strained chest muscles protested.

Not that I cared, I wouldn't admit it aloud, but I couldn't have been happier.

* * *

A/N: 1st person POV, hope i did the characters proud :-)

I also figured that, even though cars and bikes are fueled differently in the future, they are still essentially cars and bikes... the thought of calling it a hover-car or some such thing just semed a little too Jetsons for me!


End file.
